


Through a Song

by Persiflage



Series: The Ways You Said 'I Love You' [10]
Category: Holby City
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Bernie Wolfe Lives, Big Macho Army Medic Bernie Wolfe, Canon Schmanon, Cheerfully Ignoring Any and All Canon as the Lord Intended, Dancing, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff and Humor, Future Fic, Minor Raf Di Lucca/Adrian "Fletch" Fletcher, Prompt Fic, Romance, Wedding Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25545913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: Future Fic: Bernie and Serena at the wedding of Fletch and Raf.
Relationships: Serena Campbell/Bernie Wolfe
Series: The Ways You Said 'I Love You' [10]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750207
Comments: 8
Kudos: 54





	Through a Song

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lapal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lapal/gifts), [Rauz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rauz/gifts), [sevtacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevtacular/gifts).



> Written for the list of prompts The Ways You Said 'I Love You'. Just a bit of romantic fluff and nonsense set in Bernie and Serena's future.

“Come on, I know this one.”

Serena gives Bernie a sceptical raise of an eyebrow and the blonde rolls her eyes.

“I do. Come on. Please.” Bernie’s holding out her hand, her expression so hopeful, like an eager Labrador, that Serena huffs a laugh and gets to her feet, allowing Bernie to lead her out onto the dance floor.

It takes her a moment to tune in to the song’s lyrics, the music’s so loud.

_Oh don't you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me_  
_I said you're holding back_  
_She said shut up and dance with me_  
_This woman is my destiny_  
_She said ooh, ooh, ooh_  
_Shut up and dance with me_

Bernie’s eyes are lit up, with delight and humour, as they move, somewhat erratically because the trauma surgeon dances like someone’s dad, and Serena’s surprised to discover that Bernie’s singing along to the words.

_We were victims of the night_  
_The chemical, physical, kryptonite_  
_Helpless to the bass and the fading light_  
_Oh we were bound to get together_  
_Bound to get together_

_She took my arm_  
_I don't know how it happened_  
_We took the floor and she said_

“C’mon Serena,” Bernie cajoles. “Sing!”

“I don’t know the song,” Serena tells her with a grimace.

_Oh don't you dare look back_  
_Just keep your eyes on me_  
_I said you're holding back_  
_She said shut up and dance with me_  
_This woman is my destiny_  
_She said ooh, ooh, ooh_  
_Shut up and dance with me_

“How do you even know this song?” Serena asks, when the lyrics fade out and the music takes over. 

“Charlie loved it and used to play it incessantly one summer when I was home on leave. She made me dance to it with her – not that I can dance, of course.” 

Serena can’t help laughing at that. “You 'Dad Dance', as Elinor informed me it’s called.”

Bernie pouts and Serena shakes her head, then allows Bernie to pull her in closer until their lips find each other. Then they’re no longer even vaguely attempting to dance as Bernie steers them off the dance floor and into a darker corner of the club. 

“You’re my kryptonite,” the trauma surgeon says, her expression tender.

“You’re ridiculously corny,” Serena tells her, “and yet I still love you.”

Bernie pulls back a little to gaze into her eyes, then smiles, her whole face lighting up. “I love you, too. And you’re not a bit corny.”

Serena chuckles. “C’mon, let’s get out of here. We’ve done our duty by the happy couple.” She glances over at where Fletch and Raf are wound around each other. “I doubt they’ll miss us if we leave early.”

Bernie nods and tangles their fingers together as they move back to their table to grab their coats and Serena’s evening bag, then they make their way out to the car park, Bernie tapping at her phone as they go.

“I’ve ordered a taxi,” she says, then slips her long wool trench coat off and wraps it around Serena’s shoulders when she shivers against the cooler night air. 

“Won’t you get cold?” she asks.

“Big macho army medics like me don’t feel the cold,” Bernie tells her, then shivers in an obviously exaggerated fashion, which makes Serena laugh.

“How did I not know how goofy you are?” Serena asks.

Bernie grins at her, wrapping her arms around her beneath coat that’s draped over her shoulders. “It’s the macho army medic thing,” she says. “It fools everyone all the time until I let my hair down.”

Serena laughs, lifting a hand to Bernie’s hair, which is still done up in an elaborate French twist for the occasion. “Your hair’s not down,” she points out.

“Mm. Good point, Campbell. Would you like it to be?”

Before Serena can answer a car draws up a few feet away.

“Madam, your carriage awaits,” Bernie says, with a half bow, one arm flung out towards the taxi.

“How much did you drink this evening?” Serena asks with a laugh as she lets Bernie usher her into the car, sliding the blonde’s coat from her shoulders and folding it over her arm as she settles herself in the backseat.

Bernie slides in from the other side. “Two beers and a glass of Shiraz,” she says.

Serena shakes her head, then allows her fingers to tangle with Bernie’s as the taxi pulls out of the car park, heading for their leafy detached. It’s three years since Bernie came home from Nairobi for good. It’s been three years of joyously cosy domesticity, with Bernie putting out the bins – but not in her slippers, because that’s not sensible, as she’d explained to Jason – every week; routinely pushing Guinevere on the swing that Bernie herself put together in Serena’s back garden; helping Serena with the gardening and even the detested housework; taking it in turns to cook dinner; and making Serena feel not only loved but utterly cherished. The last three years have been the happiest in Serena’s life and she is deeply grateful every day that Bernie had refused to let her push her out of her life after she made that foolish mistake with her F1. 

“Penny for them,” Bernie says as the taxi stops outside their house. She’s a little startled, having got thoroughly lost in her reverie, and she gives the trauma surgeon a warm smile as Bernie helps her out of the car, then drapes her wool coat over her shoulders again.

“Just thinking how wonderful the last three years have been,” she says, Bernie’s hand finding hers so that their fingers entwine. “After–” She has to pause and take a deep breath and Bernie must guess what she’s thinking because she squeezes Serena’s hand in her own. “After I lost Elinor, I never imagined I’d be happy again, let alone as happy as I am with you. Thank you for never giving up on me back then, and for never giving up on us.”

Bernie kisses her softly on the lips, the unlocks the door and ushers her inside. “As if I could ever give up on the love of my life.” She closes and bolts the door, then lifts her coat from Serena’s shoulders and hangs it up. “Do you want a nightcap?”

“No,” Serena says firmly, grabbing and tugging at her hand. “I just want you.”

Bernie smirks, bends her knees to scoop Serena into her arms, eliciting a shriek of surprise, then carries her upstairs. “Then you shall have me,” she says, and carries her over to the bed.

**Author's Note:**

> The song that Bernie knows (for a wonder) is Walk the Moon's _Shut Up and Dance With Me_.


End file.
